JAKE'S GHOST: a dog story
" Christ, that’s the homeliest dog here, Charlie." I said as my 7 year old kid pointed to this 40 pound mutt in the lowest level cage at the no-kill shelter out in East Jesus somewhere. “Why do you like him?" Charlie replied, “He looks like he really wants a home." And sure enough, when we took him on a trail walk, he not only found our car on the lot but jumped in ready to go home as well. So Jake it was, the half dauschound and half Rottweiler - whose tail was chopped off at birth 'cause his mom was the rotty.
Something rather soulful about Jake from the very beginning. His eyes felt like a real persons, very sad and expressive, very penetrating -as if he knew something about you that you couldn't face yourself. There was this old TV series from the ‘50s called "People's Choice" with Jackie Cooper that co-starred a basset hound named 'Cleo' - whose expressive face summed up each episode. That was Jake. A true hound dog disguised as a mutt who was really a human being under it all; at least that's how it felt when you looked into his fixed steady stare at you. It felt like a person was watching you, or watching over you.
And our acquisition of Jake coincided with the news I received of the death of my estranged father - similar name in Yiddish, Yunkala; maybe that how we named the dog. Nobody really knows how that happened; his actual name at the pound was ‘Spike’. They called him that 'cause he got into fights with other dogs and that's why he was at the shelter. Somehow it was always Jake for us, we just felt it fit and so it did. The dog was a family member within 3 days of coming home to Silver Lake with us. He just flowed with the family, not demanding anything special other than to be fed - twice a day - and let outside in our hillside yard.
At first, Jake got out of the yard and wondered the neighborhood, more just to show us he could than to really run away. But then, after about a month, he settled into the routine of being the dog nobody notices much except when you're lonely and need a friend or if an unwanted delivery person shows up. That bark, this deep, scary junk yard dog bark that resonated for blocks away; and then you open the door and there stood this foot and a half high misshapen wiener dog with the face of a ferocious hound barking out of a Sherlock Holmes mystery. Really kinda scary, if you didn't know how sweet an animal he was.
Charlie and his friends would pull on his stubby tail or tweak his nose or even step on the poor dog, and never a snap or even a growl. He adored kids, all kids, even babies and nothing could cause him to turn on them. Even a stranger who would say, "What a weird look dog" and then pull his floppy ears - nothing was his response except to slowly wander up and say hello. Jake was always calm, and calming, he had this presence which did in fact lower you heartbeat and keep your blood pressure in check. He quickly became known as the dog that made our household work.
The marriage itself had been in the toilet from the start when all agreed my X and I were voted as 'most likely to divorce' by our circle of bohemian friends. But it did last for 17 years - the last 8 due to Jake. We both loved him and our kid much more than we disliked each other. A kid and a dog is sometimes all you need. But eventually, once the kid was old enough to not get too mangled by the breakup of our household, we parted ways. Jake was never in dispute. My X knew who’s dog he really was and she also knew he won't fit with the designer furniture she was planning for her new digs. And so it was that while I shared joint custody of our son, Jake was all mine and that's how I kept the illusion of normal family life and responsibility going.
Without that dog I could not have carried on the illusion of being a family man. My son and I were and are very close; but I was glad to see him have a regular school week at Mom's high-end tony beach front place in the Marina. My low-rent West LA place was close enough to his private school to make it a convenient stay and in-fact the kid voluntarily divided his time nicely so that I got to spend lots of time with him, but it was Jake that really glued us. Things felt just like they always had, secure and comfortable. I had kept all the old furniture and photos and Jake was there to re-assure all that nothing much had really changed, except bed partners perhaps.
That newly singles dating period is pretty alienating and unnerving and it was Jake that tipped me off about going overboard. When he buried is nose in his paws after I brought home the 5th women in as many days, I knew it was time to chill. And Jake would sort them out as well. If they sat on the sofa with me and he jumped up on my side to get petted, chances are the new lady friend was OK. But if he jumped between us and nudged her always with his rear-end (something guaranteed to repel) well then they may not be for me. His judgment was often right. But at least someone cared enough to watch over me.
I quickly learned after the divorce that life can be pretty detached ,lonely ,and dispiriting when you’re on your own. I wandered through jobs and money problems and some health issues noticing all the time that other than my son (who I did not want to share all this with) no one much cared about my problems. No one that is other than Jake. Lost $ 5 grand in stock market collapse, Jake would jump up on the bed to nudge your armpit and sleep with you. Had a girl friend cheat on you, Jake would replace her kiss with a lick. And if there was no-one there to bring you chicken soup when you got the flu, well then Jake would try and do that too. He just knew your problems and what you needed and if any dog could come close to making it all better, it was Jake.
And so it was more than troubling to see the early signs of Jake's old age set in. He no longer barked when a stranger knocked on the door, in fact he didn't even wake up unless you yelled his name. His hearing went out first. It was sort of funny, I mean he was probably 12 years old or something like that and that's a lot of dog years and it was sort funny. There wasn't much he needed to hear, he was always with me or on a leash anyway. And then his sight started going out, but he could still smell where you were. But when his teeth were missing, Jake got upset, because he couldn’t chew without pain. So that by around 14, Jake was getting very slow in walking, and walked less and less. I accepted his incontinence because he was good about going on the 'pee-pee' pad; but the apartment still stank from dog urine.
By the time all this was happening, Charlie had left for college and I met someone real who was a keeper. I could tell because she liked Jake right away and in some ways got closer to him than me. She knew only the old guy and never remembered him running or jumping up anywhere. His personality hadn't really changed but now he had limitation that I found troubling. Not my girlfriend Miriam, she just accepted the dog as he was and bonded with him like a family member. Jake was glad for the company when she moved in and glad especially to have someone who got home from work earlier than me and who never forgot to feed him. Some nights Jake would even prefer to sleep with her over me.
That was really the beginning of the end of Jake's tour of duty watching over me. It was as if he was tug boat gently guiding a big old ship into safe harbor; once I reached a good place, well, Jake's job was over. Jake and I both knew that something had to change. His health was going faster and now signs were more obvious. Going up the stairs became a challenge with occasional trips; his breath had the foul odor of lots of mouth decay and rot ,and food just wasn't as important as it had been - even the soft kind that he could easily chew.
Because Jake's health was always great there weren’t many trips to the vet, apart from regular shots. When we finally decided to invest $ 200 bucks in his teeth and for some blood work two things became clear. Jake wasn't in bad shape for a 14 year old dog and that this was just the start of a long and expensive road to keep him alive for maybe another year. He needed teeth surgery - and the recovery period was likely to be unpleasant for an older dog who had never really known a sick day in his whole life. I needed to make a decision there and then. For both my own good and Jake's, I decided let Jake go.
I called a week ahead and asked the vet how it all worked and what papers needed signing and best time and all that sort of stuff and then I told Miriam. She argued with me, at first forcefully and then resentfully. I guess she knew what my X wife knew as well, a boy and his dog isn't something you can really get between, let alone really understand. It was my lonely call to make. But a week later, that last Friday of the year, when I turned to her over breakfast and told her to say good-bye to Jake, Miriam acted very shocked. "I thought surely you'd change your mind...it can be put off can't it?"
I couldn't bear to take him in but nor could I live with inevitable decision hanging over me. He went with me to the vets that last day, but not very willingly. You see, he knew as well. For the first time ever, he pulled back on his leash and refused to cross the street with me. He resisted going in. I gave him part of a Christmas cookie from the reception desk and that got some grudging approval. Jake wasn't even friendly to the handler who came out from behind the vet's desk to take him in the back. He felt those wet drops on his head but he did turn around and nudge me one last time to get up and follow him; but this time I ignored his nudge.
I sat in the parking lot for a good long time crying alone in the car using a dish towel because a tissue just wasn’t big enough. I felt as though my heart had been ripped out and every last support in my crumbling middle-aged life had just vanished. I guess Kierkegaard described this as being 'forlorn ' or maybe Sartre summed it up in his book ‘Nausea’. Whatever that existential locker in hell is that people inhabit at the bottom, well, there it was. I did the cliché, got very busy with a job assignment that started at 9 am and just buried myself. Refusing to discuss details or much else with friends and family for week. I couldn't talk about it at all; just too painful.
Now as I walk to the kitchen I feel Jake at my heels. I feel him watching me at the table eating waiting for me to drop some foot on the floor. He is there at night under my arm as I sleep. I can hear his paws rattling on the hard wood floor. Even if he’s not really there it’s kinda of comforting. I wonder if my next dog may well be taking me in to put me down and then write an article all about it.
